Sometimes an outlaw is your only friend… especially when it’s too late to post and you’ve got to get up early in the morning. Thanks, Waylon…
Tag Archives: record collecting
Best Always, Michael McDonald
Forged from a life-changing experience by some burned-up Doobies fan, this pristine copy of Michael McDonald’s 1985 album, No Lookin’ Back, rested perfectly, like a low hanging piece of musical fruit, amongst the drab and questionable murk at a Goodwill in the San Fernando Valley. Sandwiched between Art Garfunkel’s Angel Clare and Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass’ What Now My Love (neither of which resemble drab or questionable murk) sat this relic gem, and in less than 10 minutes, and for only $0.95, it was mine.
Why someone would part with such a profound and enlightened treasure is beyond me, but she now rests, calmly, within my analog graveyard. Someone had a hell-of-a day when this album was signed, and I thank them for their careless oversight.Stigmata
1988 was a good year for Ministry, and the quote, unquote, twelve-inch, maxi-single (of only two songs), Stigmata, highlighted the aggressive enthusiasm of its umbrella, The Land of Rape and Honey, and still serves as one of the best Ministry songs to date, some 26 years later. Yeah, that’s right… Stigmata is 26 years old, and Al Jourgensen, believe it or not, is still alive. Image that shit.
Anyway, a classic, with any given redefinition.
70’s Rock Must Die
As far as Lard is concerned, it really doesn’t get much better than 1989’s The Power of Lard. “Pity the poor trainer, in the stable when the racehorse farts,” “It’s ok to run out of butter in Zambia, just smear squashed caterpillars on your toast,” and “Poison Oak really is the aphrodisiac of the Gods” are just the red hot tip of the frozen iceberg found within the band’s debut track.
Fast forward to 2000 with the release of the band’s 2nd EP (three tracks). Their fourth and final release, 70’s Rock Must Die unfortunately features more tongue than cheek, and is by far the band’s ill-fated gift. For you see, there really is no bad Lard album, track, phrase, loop, what-have-you, there’s just spitfire Industrial brilliance, and their other stuff.
Sex sells, and so do lottery tickets. Hendrix was. His legacy is. Fervent toils remain unraveled over the greatness of this 6-stringed beast. Let them toil and snare, grieving for future’s ears. The future was last week, as well as tomorrow. Let time prematurely leak its incessant novelties, and let the cautious remain cautious.
RIP Johnny Allen Hendrix.
Dollar A Day
Short retort tonight, as the warm, guilty rays from the Hardin Sun cast fervent necessity that borderlines an acute obsession upon me and mine during these last few (years) weeks. I’ve gone so far as to hunt down the “Electronically Re-Recorded to Simulate STEREO” version of This is Tim Hardin to accompany the original mono version, and I have, today, decided it was worth a few good, conscious hours to digitize both albums for digital enjoyment. I’ve yet to find the proper ear-apparatus to showcase the difference between the two, but as with any obsession, logic gets second billing.
RIP James Timothy Hardin.
Great Hank
Happy October 10th to all of you music lovers out there. Happy Friday night for those of us on the West Coast. Offered up this fine fall evening is a 24-track, 2-LP comp of Hank Williams’ great hits titled, The Great Hits of Hank Williams. As a member of both the Country Music and Rock and Roll Halls of Fame, Mr. Williams remains as influential a songwriter and musician as any other single titled artist. Cash is classic, Dylan is decent, but Williams will forever be without end.
RIP Hiram King Williams, Sr.
The Very Best
The Very Best of Richard Pryor is hardly what it claims. But as I’ve said, and will continue to say as long as I have life in my chest, it does not get any funnier than Richard Pryor.
Another Laff Records rush-to-get-it-out, recycled-without-a-hint-of-shame, X-Rated, listen-after-your-parents-have-long-gone-to-bed release, The Very Best of Richard Pryor embezzles from “Craps” After Hours (1971), Are You Serious??? (1976), Who Me? I’m Not Him (1977), Black Ben the Blacksmith (1978), Outrageous (1979), and what sounds like a Scotch tape merging of cutting room floor excerpts. This is all, of course, certainly not to say that The Very Best of Richard Pryor is without merit, and shouldn’t be owned by everyone who enjoys the idea of laughing until you cry.
RIP Richard Pryor.
Poison Idea
You know that when you’ve started measuring out your cocktails, there’s an issue onboard the gravy train. 1988’s glam metal pop sluts from Pennyslvania made a shit-ton of parents unhappy with their questionably abhorrent cover for Open Up and Say… Ahh!, their second, and most successful makeup-laden album.
Competing against Def Leppard’s Hysteria (a personal fav), Bon Jovi’s New Jersey (another adolescent treasure), and Guns N’ Roses Appetite for Destruction (arguably the best album every released), it’s no wonder Poison’s Open Up… achieved only the no. 2 spot on the Billboard 200. Striving for that no. 1 spot, the band re-released OUaS…A! with a slightly less eye-catching, much more (parent friendly) subdued cover, but were never able to break into that coveted no. 1 spot; Unfortunate, but understandable given the timeless competition.
Pave the World
File tonight’s venture under the heading of 10” pictures discs that haven’t been played in over 18 years. One of the most memorable live bands my teenaged self has ever had the pleasure of witnessing, the Chicago-based new, new wave ska hardcore band, The Blue Meanies, combined big band numbers with post-hardcore aggression, offered eye-opening repetitive (and loud) percussion, horns, and spitting lyrics bellowing forth from an amplified megaphone.
Pave the World, like most spot-on commentaries on the everyday unraveling of social morality (based on the motivation of greed and fatter stacks), wails like an uneasy siren of truth. The Blue Meanies were not a band to be taken lightly, and their wisdom will continue to paint the horizons of willing truth seekers generations to come.
Laff
Recording only one, proper album for Laff Records, Richard Pryor saw many, recycled releases throughout the label’s tenure, up, and until to their ultimate demise sometime in the 1980s. Among the two I just acquired (Who Me? I’m Not Him and The Very Best of Richard Pryor), Laff Records released the following slue of cut and past jobbers showcasing the funniest man alive (RIP Richard Pryor): “Craps” After Hours, Rev. Du Rite, Are You Serious???, Insane, L.A. Jail, Holy Smoke, Who Me? I’m Not Him, Black Ben the Blacksmith (I just passed this one up on 8-track), The Wizard of Comedy, Outrageous, Supern!gger, Richard Pryor Live, and The Very Best of Richard Pryor. Milking the money cow that was Mr. Pryor proved to be profiting for the “adults only” label, and as far as I’m concerned, the more Richard Pryor, the merrier.
Hell Bats
Would you pay 95 Lincolns for Meat Loaf’s Bat out of Hell? Well I did, and thanks to the “every album should have a protective plastic sleeve, because who knows the ramifications of unprotected audible indulgence,” type situation, I’d forgotten that I owned this album. So, yeah… Meat Loaf. Eat up, kiddos. (Insert quippy, quasi-comical, closing statement here.)
The Chipmunks of Infinity
The biggest, brightest marquee names in TV / movie pop culture, according to Alvin and the Chipmunks circa: 1982 are as follows: 9 to 5, Grease, The Greatest American Hero, Fame, Annie, The Dukes of Hazzard, Chariots of Fire, ET, Arthur, and Rocky.
It’s comforting to acknowledge how prolific and timeless The Chipmunks Go Hollywood still remains, given the immortal impact of these groundbreaking examples of visual brilliance. Why, just the other day while shopping for Boston Baked Beans at the corner 7-Eleven (the ‘Sev), I overheard a youth (a shaggy-haired runt in knee-high tube socks) exclaim to his dopey-eyed, sugar-pack-hoarding cohort, “You know Sly, I’ve been thinking, The Greatest American Hero is, in my humble opinion, the greatest American television show of all time. Wouldn’t you agree, good chap?” To which the sweaty wingman replied something inaudible, just before knocking over a wicker basket full of week old fruit.
The youth, like the Chipped Munks of 1982, got it, and The Chipmunks Go Hollywood still remains one of the most important works of modern day artistic expression, but that, of course, goes without saying.
First
Dust-lickin’ flavor-pickin, southern blues at its purest form. This is a formal invite, proper indulgence to follow proper.
So in the meantime, enjoy yourself some upstanding, down-home n’ dirty Southern-fried-rock, with a hint of sexual innuendo.
You never forget your First…
Walk Don’t Run (Straight to Bed)
Long live the endless, wet adventure with this Best of comp by the world’s all-time best-selling instrumental band, and Tacoma, Washington’s very own, The Ventures. Of course Walk Don’t Run is on there, along with Wipe Out, Hawaii Five-O, Tequila and Ram-Bunk-Shush (among others). Sometimes, and this is fairly infrequent, Best of albums are just what the late night doctor ordered (along with a hi-ball of straight Canadian rye).
Record #3000
The road to 3000 has been a long and winding one, and the choice of the mighty 3000, being the featured white vinyl version of the Beatles 1968 self titled album, is nothing short of exaccurate (exactly accurate).
I’d been hunting this monster down for more than a few years. The hefty price tag ($100+ complete w/ all four headshots and poster) always deterred me from pulling the trigger. That is, until I found this beaut off ebay last week. Knowing the inevitable 3000 was rapidly approaching, my once torrid, vinyl-hording obsession turned into a frugal-minded halt, as I forwent the “casual” purchasing phase until the mighty 3000 came home. I certainly hope #4000 isn’t for quite some time, as space is really starting to become an issue… one that every collector knows all too well.
Naked Eye
In the process of sheathing my collection with 3 mil polyethylene jimmy hats (started with A, currently at L), I’ve discovered a few hidden, sealed treasures I’d somehow forgotten about. I count five virgin records living between A and L, among them is this 1996 maxi 12” from Grand Royal’s Luscious Jackson.
Naked Eye, the band’s most commercially successful song, was the only offering from the band to enter the Billboard Hot 100, and the first to penetrate these ears. Word around the barrio is that LJ reunited and were collaborating on new music, a certain and promising upswing from this severely underrated band.
Tim Hardin > The Dead Kennedys
Whilst listening to Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables, it’s beyond evident to conclude, that although magnificent and majestic in his own right, Tim Hardin’s Tim Hardin 3 is much more socially acceptable than 1980’s FFfRV. I acknowledge that, of course, Mr. Hardin’s live offering is just, if not more fruitful as DK’s studio performance.. and all-the-more vibrant, I’m just exhausted and unable to prolong the unimaginable fight.
Tim Hardin > The Dead Kennedys
TV’s Greatest Hits
Thank you, Television’s Greatest Hits, for lodging, without invitation, the Mr. Ed theme, firmly into my skull for the better part of an already stress-sweated day (And no one can talk to a horse of course, that is, of course, unless the horse is the famous Mr. Ed). What seemed like a grandiose achievement at the time of purchase, 65 TV themes have proved, a $6.48 fine of unshakable, maniacally repetitious, headache (to put it lightly).
Mr. Ed, The Jetsons, The Dick Van Dyke Show, Gilligan’s Island… to name only a few (four of 65), do their wide-eyed part in depicting two records worth of yesteryear’s unforgettable little diddies.
Do I regret my purchase? Hell no! Do I wish I never spun these pristine, black, circular discs, abso-fuggin-lutely.
Country Bo
The law might get ‘em, then again the law might not get ‘em too! I must admit, that the motivation behind the inclusion of John Schneider and Tom Wopat’s pop-country work into the fold (Bo and Luke Duke respectively), is purely, and without shameful hesitation, based solely upon their prominent involvement with The Dukes of Hazzard.
That being said, it’s about hot damn time for the yearly Dukes of Hazzard marathon. (More of a reminder for me, than anything else… let’s be honest.) Pour yourself a hefty cup of bootlegged moonshine, weld the doors of your mound-jumping coupe, and pray to the heavens that Rosco Purvis Coltrane isn’t hot on your daisy dukes.
#gewgewgew
The Prudent Groove 